The Sleeping Beauty Killer Read online

  Cooled down, she wondered. More like, gone cold.

  • • •

  She heard a knock on the door. It was Jerry. “It’s been Grand Central in here,” he said. “You ready to make that punch list of what we need to do before we can start editing?”

  They’d started the list earlier today. An affiliated studio in D.C. would get footage of the exterior of Casey’s childhood home and high school. Jerry was tracking down yearbook photos and video images of Tufts, where Casey had spent her college years.

  Once they were seated at the conference table, Laurie said she still thought they needed to interview someone who knew Casey and Hunter as a couple. “We have Andrew’s recollections, but of course he’s going to emphasize the negative. Mark Templeton’s obviously a no. And Casey’s cousin and mother won’t be talking to us any time soon. Didn’t Casey have any friends?”

  “She did, as in past tense. They dropped her like a hot potato once she was arrested.”

  “What about her friends’ boyfriends? Maybe there was a go-to couple for double dates.” She was thinking out loud now. “Actually, Sean Murray might be perfect.”

  It took Jerry a moment to recognize the name of the man who had been Angela’s boyfriend fifteen years ago. “I thought he already passed.”

  “He did, but he wasn’t adamant about it. I didn’t push, because it didn’t seem important.” Laurie now realized there was another reason Sean might be helpful. It would be interesting to know if Angela had ever told him that Casey’s own family thought she might be guilty. “And I think he was worried how his wife would feel about his crossing paths with Angela again.”

  “But now that she’s not on camera—”

  “Let’s track down his address. I might have a better shot in person.”

  58

  Thanks to traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge, it took Charlotte’s taxi nearly an hour to make the six-mile drive from Laurie’s Rockefeller Center office to the Brooklyn warehouse where Ladyform would host its fall show in four days. As she swiped her credit card for the enormous fare, the cabdriver seemed to read her mind. “This time of day, it’s better to take the subway over the bridge.” Taking the hint, she left an extra tip to get him back into Manhattan, where business would be better.

  She found a one-foot gap beneath the warehouse’s steel roll-up door. She gave the handle a hard pull until the door rolled up enough for her to slip inside, then pushed it back to its starting place behind her. She’d been here three times previously, enough to know the basic layout of the building. What had been a distribution center for a commercial linen company had been overhauled into a three-story building with huge, arched windows and soaring ceilings. Eventually, the floors would be split into individual condo units, but for now the developer was bringing in revenue by renting out the largely unfinished space for photo shoots and corporate events. After Angela found the listing, Charlotte had immediately agreed that it was perfect for their fall show. They could “bring their vision” and “make the place their own,” as the leasing agent said. Plus, it was dirt-cheap.

  The first floor would be set up like a cross-fitness gym to feature the workout clothes and bodywear that Ladyform was already famous for. The second floor would be staged like a typical workplace with office cubicles, starring Ladyform’s new expansion into ­business-casual attire for the working woman. And the third floor would have a homey feel to highlight pajamas and weekend loungewear.

  “Angela?” she called out. Charlotte’s voice echoed through the warehouse. “Angela—where are you?”

  The only overhead lighting came from the dim, fluorescent ceiling boxes that buzzed above Charlotte as she worked her way through the first floor. Portable construction floodlights cast shadows as she passed. The stage lights wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow, but the set was coming along nicely. A row of treadmills faced a series of Pilates equipment. Visitors would walk between the two as if moving through a gym, with models “exercising” on either side.

  Charlotte recognized three large bins of sporting equipment and a box with their soon-to-be-released, long-sleeve workout tops that had been in the hallway outside Angela’s office earlier that morning. She used the light from the screen of her cell phone to read a note that had been taped to the side of one of the open bins. For first floor gym set.

  Having completed a loop through the first floor, she made her way to the elevator at the front of the warehouse. The doors opened, but when she stepped inside and pushed the button for the second floor, nothing happened. She tried hitting 3, but that didn’t work either. Spotting the stairwell door in the corner, she took the steps instead. She was disappointed to see that the second floor seemed barely touched, other than more notes that Angela had taped throughout the space.

  She was nearly out of breath when she reached the third floor, which seemed slightly more put together than the second. Two faux “rooms”—a living room and bedroom—had been constructed like the soundstage of a television show. A few pieces of furniture were in place. More notes evidenced Angela’s presence. Charlotte could only read the one closest to her: Accent wall. Paint gray.

  “There you are,” Charlotte said, spotting her friend sitting cross-legged on an area rug in the fake bedroom. “I may need to work less and work out more. Two flights of stairs were a killer.”

  “They’re high ceilings, so it’s probably more like four or five.” Angela looked up momentarily from the sketch pad she was writing on. “Can you believe what a wreck this is? And, as you probably discovered, the elevator’s on the fritz. That’s why the second floor’s barely touched. It got stuck downstairs in the middle of the day. The agent promised it’ll be fixed tomorrow, but trust me, I’m getting a price concession. I should have been here all day riding herd on the crew.”

  “Your family needed you. That comes first.” Charlotte had spent five years in a frenzy of worry about a family member. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to find out that someone you loved like a sister—the way Angela loved Casey—was probably a murderer. “I spoke to Laurie. No luck, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, maybe it won’t be up to her. Paula was talking about hiring a lawyer.”

  “I doubt it will do any good. I hate to say it, but is it possible your cousin is actually guilty?”

  Angela’s marker stopped moving. “I honestly don’t know what to think anymore,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry I got you involved.”

  Charlotte was walking through what they were calling the “at home” set, impressed by the details outlined on Angela’s notes. Place light here in one spot. And also here in another. This chair is too low. And also it looks like it’s meant for the second-floor set.

  Charlotte did a double take as she read the note on the chair. “You wrote all these?” she asked.

  “Of course, I did. Who else was going to do it?”

  59

  It was late afternoon, but Laurie decided she had to try to interview Sean Murray. She had his address and went downstairs and hailed a cab. I might have more luck face-to-face than I would on a phone call, she thought.

  Sean’s Brooklyn Heights brownstone was on a quiet, tree-lined street, where children could ride their bikes on the sidewalk toward Prospect Park, and small purebred dogs roamed free on the occasional fenced front lawn. Laurie had thought many times about moving to give Timmy a larger home and more open space, but he loved his school and his friends and seemed perfectly content in their apartment on the Upper East Side.

  From the front stoop, she heard the thunder of rapid footsteps inside the brownstone in response to the doorbell. “Daaa—aaad,” a young voice called out. “There’s a grown-up at the door. Should I get it?”

  A deeper voice gave a response she couldn’t make out, and soon she was looking at Sean Murray, the man who had been dating Angela when Hunter was killed. She recognized him from a few of the photographs Casey h
ad provided for a montage. She could tell that Sean recognized her name when she introduced herself. “I wanted to talk to you again about the possibility of helping with our program.” She lowered her voice. “As it turns out, Angela won’t be participating in the show. I thought that might change the dynamics.”

  He stepped back so she could enter and walked her into a sitting room at the front of the house. She could hear children’s voices and the sound of a television from upstairs. Sean took a seat in the wing chair across from her.

  “I know you weren’t sure how your wife would feel about the show,” Laurie said. “Perhaps we should meet somewhere else?”

  Sean let out a small laugh. “I felt silly the second I said my wife would mind. Jenna doesn’t have a jealous bone in her body—”

  “Then why did you say it was about Jenna?”

  “Because I’m a terrible liar,” he said, laughing again.

  “You just didn’t want to talk to me,” she surmised. She started to pick up her briefcase, assuming the trip had been futile.

  He held up a hand to stop her. “It’s not that. It’s—Oh, I may as well tell you. Angela asked me to find a reason not to sign on.”

  Unbelievable, Laurie thought. Angela had made it clear she had concerns about Casey’s decision to go on Under Suspicion, but now it turned out that she had been actively undermining them.

  “Is that because Angela has always believed Casey was guilty?”

  Sean’s eyes widened. “Absolutely not,” he insisted. “Personally, I think Casey did it, but I can’t know for sure. But Angela?” He shook his head. “She was a fierce advocate for Casey. Supporting Casey brought out the best in her.”

  “How so?” Laurie asked.

  “I have no idea what Angela’s like today, but back then, her whole identity was wrapped up in being a model. But she was losing work, always to younger women. She started to live in the past, as if her best days were behind her. It wasn’t easy. Angela could be vain—and bitter. But she was completely unselfish after Hunter was killed. She told anyone who would listen that her cousin was innocent. It was almost like being Casey’s most loyal supporter became her new identity.”

  “So why didn’t she want you to talk to the show?”

  Laurie could tell that Sean was on the fence about revealing a private conversation. “Fine, I’m telling you, because it’s for her own good. She and Casey are practically sisters. They shouldn’t have secrets between them. Angela didn’t want me talking to you because she never told Casey that she was in love with Hunter.”

  “She was in love with him? She and Casey both told me that it was just a couple of dates. They even joked about it.”

  “Trust me, I heard that comedy routine, too. No, it was definitely more than that. Casey was so concerned with all those high-society women swooning over Hunter that she never noticed the way her own cousin looked at him. But I did. One day, I caught Angela staring dreamily at his picture in the newspaper, so I confronted her, point-blank: ‘Do you have feelings for your cousin’s fiancé?’ She tried denying it initially, but when I told her that I couldn’t continue a relationship with her if she wasn’t honest with me, she came clean. She said that at one point she had really loved him. She made me promise never to tell Casey.”

  “You stayed with her, even after she lied to you?”

  “Well, she didn’t lie so much as not tell me the whole truth.” Laurie couldn’t help but think about her own bump in the road with Alex—or was it the end of the road? She forced herself to focus on Sean as he continued to explain. “Ironically, knowing about Angela’s past relationship with Hunter made me feel closer to her. Her love for Casey was stronger than anything she ever felt for Hunter. She wanted Casey to be happy and didn’t want to do anything to cause a problem in her marriage. I admired her selflessness. But I can’t believe she’s still hiding this from Casey after all these years. Why does it matter anymore? If anything, it shows how much Casey meant to her. But once she told me, it felt like a wall came down between us.”

  Laurie pushed away thoughts about her own wall, the one between her and Alex. The one she couldn’t seem to drop.

  “So why did you break up?”

  “Because being a little closer isn’t the same as true love. I think Angela really did try to love me, but I wasn’t him.”

  “Hunter, you mean.”

  He nodded. “I felt horrible when he was killed. To be honest, I used to wish something bad would happen to him, knowing Angela was still carrying a torch for him. I hoped she’d finally be over Hunter and let me into her heart after he was killed. But then one night I was going through her hallway closet, searching for a replacement bulb for her dining room light. I found a box she had kept from her time with Hunter—like a ‘memory box’ or something. I gave her an ultimatum. I told her she needed to get rid of it if we were going to stay together. She became enraged. I’d never seen her like that before. It scared me, frankly. She taunted me and said that I’d never be as good a man as Hunter.”

  Laurie could tell that the words still stung all these years later.

  “That was the end of our relationship. You just can’t get past that.”

  No, Laurie thought. There are some things you can’t get past. She hoped that wasn’t the case with Alex.

  “It worked out fine, though,” Sean said, his voice becoming cheerful. “Met the real thing two years later. I can’t imagine life without Jenna and the kids.”

  Sean’s description of Angela was at complete odds with the impression she’d given Laurie. What she described as a few casual dates with Hunter had obviously meant much more than she’d let on. If the relationship had ever been serious, certainly Hunter would have mentioned it to Casey. And neither Hunter’s father nor his brother mentioned Hunter ever dating Casey’s cousin. Instead, it had been a running joke that Hunter and Angela would have made a terrible couple.

  But maybe Angela hadn’t agreed. Maybe she was faking the laughter, while she kept a memory box devoted to Hunter in her closet. Laurie pictured Angela, short on modeling work and with no other career plans—removing the contents when she was alone, sitting on her bed and dreaming about a reality where Hunter Raleigh III had chosen her instead of her younger cousin.

  “Sean, that box you found. Did it happen to contain a picture of Hunter with the President?”

  He smiled. “You guys are good. How did you find out about that picture?”

  60

  Charlotte and Angela had decided to take a “divide and conquer” approach. Charlotte left her friend to continue working on the “home” set upstairs, while Charlotte circled back downstairs to decide the exact layout of the exercise-themed set on the ground floor.

  She unpacked the yoga mats and hand weights from the bins Angela had used to transport them from the office. She was always impressed by Angela’s ability to find savings in a budget. They were renting the larger equipment like treadmills and Pilates machines for the show, but Angela was the one who’d raided Ladyform’s on-site gym for these smaller items.

  Charlotte was trying to decide between two different layouts she’d sketched, but found her mind wandering as she looked at her sketch pad. She paused to read all of the notes that Angela had taped around the first floor for the set builders. She found yet another use of the term and also.”

  She reached into her briefcase for her iPad, opened her email, and searched for archived messages from Angela. As she read through them, certain sentences jumped out at her in a new way. I confirmed with the light company. And also we need to discuss music. Let’s go to Lupa tonight. Best pasta! And also there’s a shop two blocks away I want to scope out.

  And also. That was the phrase Laurie had highlighted from many of the negative comments posted about Casey online. Charlotte had never noticed, but Angela seemed to use the phrase, too. Maybe it was common, she thought. On the other hand, s
he couldn’t help but replay Laurie’s comments that afternoon. Angela may have already had suspicions. She was worried it would come to this. Neither one of us would be in this situation if she’d told us from the beginning she had her doubts.

  Maybe Angela had known all along that Casey was guilty but didn’t want to tell the police. Casey and her parents had been Angela’s only family after her mother died. She could imagine Angela feeling torn about whether to turn on Casey if it meant losing not only her, but her aunt and uncle as well. But to post negative comments anonymously online while pretending to be her most loyal defender? To let Charlotte plead Casey’s innocence to Laurie, even as she carried her own doubts?

  Charlotte could not believe that Angela would be so deceitful. She was tempted to ask her directly, but in the likely event she was wrong, she didn’t want to pile any more stress onto her friend’s plate.

  Then she realized there might be another way to put her concerns to rest.

  61

  Laurie called Paula Carter from the sidewalk outside Sean Murray’s house. Paula picked up after one ring. “Oh, Laurie. Please say you’ve changed your mind. Is there any way you’ll cancel the show?”

  “No, but it may be better than that, Paula. I may have found a lead on the missing picture. But I have to ask you a question. Two nights ago, Casey called me at home, asking me not to mention the details of the photograph missing from Hunter’s house. She said that withholding that detail from the show was something she, you, and Angela discussed.”

  “That’s right. Of course, I tried once again to get her to call the whole thing off, but she ignored me as usual.”

  “But the idea of not mentioning the picture of Hunter and the President: Exactly whose idea was that? Can you remember?”